Vanilla Interlude
by jennybenny2845
Summary: Dean reaps the rewards for being a nice guy. Written for the HPFC Affair Challenge.


**Disclaimer: **Any recognizable characters, places, etc. don't belong to me. They belong to JKR.

**Warnings: **Mild Torture, Infidelity & Lemons

Bellatrix ran a shaky hand through her messy, curly locks as she paced back and forth in front of the door to Lucius' study. Wormtail informed her that the Dark Lord had several "pressing matters" to discuss with her. She gnawed on her bottom lip as her pacing increased. She knew that he would inquire about the progress that she was supposed to be making with the prisoners. He had tasked her with extracting information regarding Potter and company's whereabouts from the children. He presumed them to be close friends of his, which Bellatrix found out was not the case. The children knew nothing, which she assumed, but would never convey to him. The Dark Lord insisted on dealing with the wandmaker, and no one really cared about the goblin. Truthfully, she was terrified as to what lay behind the closed door. It had been almost a month, and she still had nothing useful to offer.

"Come in, Bellatrix," he beckoned. The door swung open, and he pointed to the black leather wingback chair in front of the ebony desk. Her heels echoed off the walls of the study, and she wondered if she was walking into the arms of death. He was twirling his wand in his pale, slender fingertips. His eyes were fixed on the wand as if an answer lay hidden in the wood.

"My Lord," she addressed him, bowing her head. Her gaze focused on the Oriental rug at her feet as she waited for him to allow her to look up at him. The seconds felt like hours, and her heart started to beat quicker.

"Have we made any progress with the children?" he inquired in a sickeningly sweet tone that startled her. Her charcoal eyes shot up and looked him dead in the eye. He pursed his lips into a thin line and crossed his arms over his chest. Bellatrix regretted her act of defiance and immediately returned her gaze to the rug.

"No, my Lord," she mumbled, blushing slightly.

"What was that?" the Dark Lord inquired, dropping his wand on the desk.

"No, my Lord," she mumbled, speaking up ever so slightly.

"What was that?" he repeated, his voice a tad higher than before.

"No, my Lord!" she exclaimed, gripping the chair's armrests as she awaited his attack. He rose from the desk and walked behind her.

"Nothing at all?" he whispered into the shell of her ear. His breath tickled her, and she resisted the urge to wiggle away from him. "And, why is that?" A bony finger ran along her jawbone.

"You _know_ why!"

"Is it because you are _incapable_? Perhaps I should have asked _Severus_," he drawled, smirking at her. Her blush deepened, and her knuckles turned white. He was goading her, and she knew it. She stared at the bookshelves that lined the wall behind the desk, suppressing the responses rolling in her head.

"Perhaps your role as my right hand should be transferred someone more _capable_," he continued as he walked back to the desk. He sat down and picked up his wand. "You have until the end of the month."

"Yes, my Lord," she responded, rising from her chair. She turned her back to him and made her way toward the door.

XXX

Bellatrix found herself on the floor a few seconds later. She pushed herself up trying to find the source of her fall. She found nothing. She turned around to look at the Dark Lord. She didn't even have a chance to shield herself. His _Stupefy_ hit her square in her chest, and she was blasted into the door. Her head hit the door with a thud, and she felt blood trickle down her bare neck. He hit her with a _Levicorpus_ as she slid down the door. She was hoisted into the air and was dangling upside-down by her ankle. Her heavy leather skirt fell to her knees exposing her preference for not wearing any underwear.

"Oh my… what do we have here?" Voldemort inquired, inspecting the bare flesh that lay before him. "Is this for me, Bellatrix?" He ran one finger up and down Bellatrix's pale thigh stopping just before he reached her most intimate spot. Bellatrix shook her head, praying that his finger would not go any higher.

"Oh, Bellatrix, I know that you are lying," he accused. "I do not bed _failures_."

"I…"

"_Langlock_," he uttered, silencing her. Bellatrix could have sworn that his eyes were glowing as he glared at her. Her eyes widened as she anticipated her punishment. She held on to the hope that he would not hurt her too much and that he still found her valuable to him despite her failure.

"_Finite_." Bellatrix fell to the ground. She had regained the ability to talk, but remained silent. "_Crucio_," he stated, a small smile forming on his lips at he watched his lieutenant's legs twist and bend. Bellatrix bit on her bottom lip, trying to suppress the screams bottled in her throat. Tears formed in her eyes as she tried not to focus on the pain running through her body. Her lip begun to bleed, and she swallowed the coppery taste. Voldemort shook his head at her lack of reaction. He cast a silencing spell over the room and proceeded to throw _Crucio_ after _Crucio _at her with each one increasing in duration. On the fifth round, she finally let out a blood-curling scream.

"_Sectumsempra_," he growled. His smile widened watching the cuts appear all over her torso. Eventually, Bellatrix passed out covered with breaks, bruises and blood. "That is what failures get," Voldemort remarked as he strode back to the desk.

"Wormtail, take her to the dungeons, and let her sit with the filth," he instructed. Wormtail suppressed his smile. She finally got what he always thought she deserved. Wormtail picked her up and carried her down the steps leading to the dungeons. He didn't mind that her blood was dripping all over his chest. He dropped her onto the cold stone floor and locked the cell behind her. In his haste, he forgot to take her wand. Bellatrix whimpered as she tried to stretch her hand out to her wand, which lay inches away from her.

* * *

><p>Dean Thomas snatched the 12 ¾", walnut and dragon heartstring wand away from the unconscious Death Eater that lay inches in front of him. He reviewed the three Unforgivable Curses trying to decide what would be the best one to use on her. He surveyed the cuts and bruises on her body and guessed that she had already undergone the Cruciatus Curse. He debated on using the Imperius Curse on her. He doubted that she would obey his commands if he ordered her to stop serving He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and side with the light. That left the dreaded Killing Curse. Dean shook his head. He did not have it in him to kill her. Heck, he hardly had it in him to harm the rats that resided in the dungeons with the prisoners.<p>

Her whimpers interrupted his thoughts as she slowly regained consciousness. Her charcoal eyes bore into him. He tried to tear his gaze away, but he could not escape their dark depths. It was almost as if she was begging him not to hurt her. A single teardrop ran down her bloodied cheek. He finally broke her gaze and looked toward Luna and Ollivander as if they would help him make his decision. It was useless since the two were sound asleep. He did not know whether to be thankful for that.

Slender hands latched on his shirt pulling him closer. Dean's heartbeat quickened and he inched closer to her. He cast a cleaning spell and removed the blood from her clothes. He repaired her tattered clothing while he tried to recall any healing spells.

"I don't know any healing spells!" The pool of blood under her was growing larger and was inches away from him. "Tell me what I can do to help you!"

"What makes _you_ think I need your help?" she screeched, dropping her hands from his shirt. "Keep your filthy hands off me!"

"You've lost a lot of blood." Bellatrix looked at her torso and sighed. She nodded curtly at the boy, allowing him to approach her.

"How incredibly observant," she snorted. "Fix my head first," she demanded, giving him the incantation. He stilled his shaking hand and aimed her wand at the back of her head. He repeated the incantation and breathed a sigh of relief as the wound healed.

"Now, my torso. And, not with the wand." Dean swallowed hard as he placed his trembling hands on her flat abdomen.

"_Velnera Sanentur_," he whispered. He watched the cuts disappear from her body. He repeated the spell a few more times until they were all gone. Next, he tended to her broken ribs. He glanced up at her and watched the rise and fall of her voluptuous chest trapped in a black corset. He shifted his hips away from her. He hoped she did not have any injuries on her upper body. Bellatrix smiled as she caught the boy staring at her. She licked her bloodied lip and bit down on it softly, her eyes twinkling as she envisioned the many ways to punish him for his error.

His clammy hands moved clumsily down her body, hovering over her alabaster legs that were covered in cuts. He hesitated briefly before placing featherlike caresses over the cuts while repeating the healing spell. Bellatrix bit down on her lip in an effort to mask the surprised expression forming on her face. His touch was drastically different from her husband's calloused hands and rough touches. She allowed his hands to linger, watching through her heavily lidded eyes as he repaired her broken ankle and leg. His face flushed as he noticed a gash on her inner thigh. He slowly moved his hands toward it.

"Leave that alone!" she exclaimed, pushing his hands off her.

"I have to heal it," he insisted. "It could get infected!"

"I don't have any underwear on!" she barked. A slight blush colored her cheeks.

"I could conjure some for you," he offered.

"With what?" she exclaimed, snapping her legs shut. "Fix my face."

"_Episkey_," Dean whispered, placing the tip of her wand over the broken nose. Bellatrix swallowed hard and ground her teeth to prevent from grimacing as her nose realigned. Dean repeated the spell for her split lip. His breath hitched as he watched her bloody lip transform back into a healthy ruby red. The lips curled into a pout, which he found oddly attractive.

"Something wrong?" she asked, glaring at him. A surge of trademark Gryffindor bravery coursed through Dean. He shot forward capturing her lips with hers. He kissed her softly making sure not to apply too much pressure.

Bellatrix stiffened as she felt the boy's soft lips pressed against hers. The tenderness of the act caught her off guard. She allowed him to deepen the kiss. He sucked on her bottom lip, his tongue swept across her bottom teeth begging for entrance into her mouth. She allowed his tongue to tango with hers. He pulled her closer to him and ran a hand through her curls while the other hand rested on her slim waist. Her hand snaked under his shirt, and he shivered as her nails scraped his bare back.

A minute later, Dean found himself on the ground screaming as Bellatrix's curse hit him. Her cackling was the last thing he heard before he passed out.

* * *

><p><strong>One Month Later<strong>

Dean was growing bored of his stay at Shell Cottage. He was grateful to Ron's brother and sister-in-law for allowing him to stay at the cottage while he recovered from his stay at Malfoy Manor. He tried to help out as often as he could despite the difficulties of having to do everything without a wand. Luna had gone back to Hogwarts a few days ago, and Ollivander had gone to stay with Ron's mum's aunt, Muriel. Harry, Hermione and Ron had continued their journey without saying a word to him as to their plans. He spent the majority of his time on the sandy seashore drawing and painting images of the beautiful landscapes. The days passed by with relative ease.

The nights were difficult since he could not get the images of the beautiful Death Eater out of his mind. He was absolutely disgusted with himself for having such thoughts about the evil woman. He tried to focus on her crimes. She tortured the Longbottoms into insanity. She killed Harry's godfather. She tortured and killed many innocent people. He repeated these three facts, trying to embed them into his head. However, his mind kept drifting to her smoldering charcoal eyes and her ruby red lips. He could have sworn that he saw something in her during her moment of weakness that made him believe that there had been a good person in her at some point. Perhaps that person was still inside of her, aching to break free from the sadistic shell confining it.

He placed his hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling as he recalled their heated kiss. He was positive that she had enjoyed it. She would not have allowed him to deepen it if she had not. _She pushed me away_, he reminded himself, recalling the searing pain of the curse she inflicted upon him. However, he was confident that she was angry with herself and not at him for kissing her. That is what he hoped anyway. She must not have been _that_ mad about it since he was still alive. _Yes, she enjoyed it_, he convinced himself, trying to go to sleep.

He tossed and turned for hours before finally getting out of bed. He took a seat at the desk and pulled out a piece of parchment and a quill that he found tucked into the pocket of his jacket. He spent the next few minutes drawing her face when she looked up at him begging him to help her. He glanced at her eyes and lips and was pleased with his recreation. He ran a finger over the lips as a wide smile formed on his face. He focused on her hair next, debating on whether to make it curlier. His eyes widened as a message appeared on the locks.

_Forest of Dean, Friday Midnight_

XXX

Dean shivered as the cool air tickled the skin of his bare neck. He wished he had donned more layers for his trek into the forest. He pulled up his hood. His hands shook as he tugged tightly on the tattered strings. He stuck his hands into the pockets of his jeans as he focused on the ground below him. He climbed over tree roots and fallen branches as he attempted to find the riverbank where she was supposedly waiting for him.

He approached the riverbank a few minutes later and searched the area for her. He sighed upon finding nothing and bereted himself for being so foolish. What if this was a trap? What if another Death Eater showed up? What if He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named showed up? He took a seat on a large rock and promised himself that he would leave if she did not show up in the next five minutes.

"Looking for me?" a familiar voice purred.

His head snapped back in the direction of the voice. The woman who plagued his dreams stepped out from behind a tree. Her skintight black dress hugged her curves in all the right places. Rays of moonlight shone on the dip of her cleavage. Dean felt butterflies fluttering in his stomach as he stood up and walked over toward her.

She pounced on him, ripped off his hood and pushed him up against the tree. The bark dug painfully into his back and he suppressed the urge to shove her off him. Her ruby red lips crashed into his, sucking him into a fiery kiss that made his knees tremble. She pinned his arms over his head, her high-heeled boots crushing his toes as her lips moved down to his jawbone. Dean groaned as she sucked and nibbled on the soft skin of his neck. He wished she would free his hands. He desperately wanted to touch her. He almost came undone when she sucked his pulse point. He ground his hips into her core so she could feel his growing arousal.

Eventually, her grip on his wrists eased, and he reversed their positions. He shoved her against the tree and wrapped one of her legs around his waist. He pushed her skirt above her hips and gripped her thigh while his lips attacked her neck. She gasped and flung her head back. Eager hands pulled down the bodice of her dress exposing her beautiful breasts. Slender hands pushed his head toward rosy nipples. His breath ghosted on a nipple, ready to take it in his mouth when she jumped away from him clutching her left forearm. With that, she pulled up her dress and disappeared.

* * *

><p>A month later, Dean's fingers were buried in the soaked folds of the dark witch. Her eyes were wide, her face was flushed and her mouth hung agape. Voluminous curls fell in front of her face, masking the crescendo of her cries as he delivered stroke after stroke of sheer pleasure. Her back was pressed into the headboard, and her legs were spread wide. Her fingernails dug mercilessly into his shoulders each time he hit a particularly pleasing spot. Dean smirked as he ran a sole finger up and down her bundle of nerves.<p>

"Use your mouth," she begged. Dean ignored her request and continued to touch her until he found her most sensitive spot. She moaned appreciatively. He stroked it until he felt her walls start to contract around him. His fingers slowly exited her body, and she scowled at him.

He placed soft kisses on her smooth stomach, making his way to her ample breasts. His broad tongue licked a rosy nipple, which hardened instantly. She pressed her hips into him, trying to get him to focus on where she needed him the most. He removed his mouth from her nipple and kissed his way back down her stomach, bypassing her core. He ignored her whines and kissed her milky, inner thighs, which were coated with the evidence of her growing arousal.

"Please!" she cried, digging her nails into his scalp. "I need you!" she begged, draping her legs over his shoulders. Without warning, he pushed his tongue deep insider her pulsating channel. He moaned into her, his tongue greedily lapping up her sweet essence. Dean's head swirled as he pleasured the whimpering witch above him. He thrust two fingers deep into the witch. She gasped and spat out a litany of salacious words that made the tips of his ears burn. He almost came undone inhaling her scent, which grew stronger by the minute. His fingers finally returned to her most pleasurable spot deep inside her. He stroked it until he felt her muscles contract. He licked the length of her clit before biting down on it gently. That was enough to fling her over the edge. She came undone around him seconds later, her legs shaking and her screams filling the room.

Dean crawled up toward her and tucked a sweaty curl behind her ear. She sighed softly as he peppered her cheeks with soft kisses. His hand draped possessively around her waist tracing small circles on her soft flesh. She opened her eyes a few moments later and gave him a soft, small smile. She took off his shirt and ran her hands up and down the muscular planes of his chest and stomach. She deftly unzipped his trousers and slid them off his hips baring his erection. She rubbed her hand up and down him. He groaned, thrusting his hips in time with her hand. She pulled him closer, and he inched forward, rubbing her folds. He was about to slide into her when she clutched her left forearm. Before she left, she planted a soft kiss on his lips and promised him that they would finish what they started.

* * *

><p><strong>A Week Later<strong>

Foreplay was a thing of the past the next time the two met. Dean didn't want to waste any time lest she was called away again. He wanted her badly. She was more than willing to comply. She was on all fours with her dress tugged over her hips exposing her hot, wet heat. The top of her dress was pulled down to her waist exposing her breasts. Dean didn't even bother to undress as he slipped his hard member out of his trousers. Without warning, he slammed hard into her.

"Yes… just like that!" she exclaimed as he slid in and out of her hot, wet heat. She braced herself on her forearms, occasionally pushing her palms into the headboard to prevent her face from slamming into it. She dropped her head and watched him deliberately pull all the way out before reentering her slowly. She whimpered as he refilled her.

"More… harder…" she begged. He tightened his grip on her hips and pressed the small of her back with one hand causing her rear to rise up. He furiously pounded into her, his hips jerking erratically as the room filled with the sounds of her moans, his grunts and skin slapping skin. He pulled on her curls forcing her upright. Her hands curled over the headboard as he hit her sweet spot.

"Perfect… so perfect…" she muttered. He continued to hit it until he felt her muscles contracting around him. He dropped a hand between her legs and caressed her clit. He pinched a nipple, and she came around him. He held on tight, willing himself not to come along with her. He did not want it to end.

"Get on your back, Bella," Dean ordered as he exited her. She rolled over and arched her back off the bed, eager for more. He pushed her down and slowly removed her dress. His fingertips lightly caressed every inch of her smooth skin as it was exposed. She sighed deeply, her brow furrowed and her eyes narrowed as she watched him. His eyes roamed up and down her naked body, and he licked his lips in anticipation. He stood up and removed his clothing. Bellatrix arched her back off the bed again. He shook his head, grinned and slung one leg over his shoulder. He dove back into her, and she gasped, digging her nails into his rear. He withdrew once more and slowly entered her. His unhurried pace aggravated her, and she wanted to curse him into compliance. She soon learned to appreciate each slow stroke as he dove deeper into her.

"Look at me. I want to see you," Dean urged. She forced her eyes open and stared back at him. Dean lowered his head and captured her ruby red lips with his. Her eyes widened at the newfound sensation. She melted into Dean, pulling him closer to her body. Her body felt aflame, and she slowly relinquished all control to him. He made slow, sweet, passionate love to her, showering her with soft kisses and caresses until they both finished. They spent the rest of the night alternating between fast and furious romps to slower sensual ones.

"Good morning, beautiful," Dean whispered, brushing away an errant curl off her face.

"Morning," she replied. Her left forearm burned. She got up and quickly donned her clothes. "The final battle is tonight. Please be safe," she whispered, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

* * *

><p><strong>Seven Years Later<strong>

Dean awoke to the voluminous curls of his dark-haired lover ticking his face. He gently pushed them away. He sat up and stared at her. His heart tightened as he watched the rise and fall of her chest. She had confessed her love to him earlier that evening. Thankfully, it was in the throes of passion, so she did not seem to mind that he had not responded. Truthfully, he wasn't sure if he loved her or if he ever could.

He padded over to his desk and pulled out a yellowed piece of parchment buried at the bottom of one of the drawers. He smiled as he traced the lines of her face with his fingertips. He reread the last message embedded in the soft curls, and he smiled as he recalled their final encounter. He had been unable to visit her and pay his respects for fear of the consequences if he was caught. He could not allow anyone to find out about his deepest, darkest secret. His throat tightened, and his eyes burned with the tears that threatened to fall down his face. His vision blurred as he struggled to keep them at bay. Eventually, he gave in, and they coated his face.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, pressing the parchment to his face. "My love, I wish I could have saved you."

With that, he wiped away his tears and crawled back into his bed with his lover, the image of his dark star etched in his mind.

_**~FIN~**_


End file.
